


Get Smart of Die

by Donteatthefootcream



Series: Winning Over Hearts [3]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Ed being smug, Ed speaking french is a kink, Flirting, He's rather mad about what happened, Ivy has a cameo because she's been missing, M/M, Murder, Mutual Pining, Oswald has gone all out with the Iceberg Lounge, Oswald playing hard to get, Post 4x22, The Riddler has gone all out as well, The Riddler is here to make up for lost time, Which I made up, Zero Year plotline, compliments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-15 20:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14797853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donteatthefootcream/pseuds/Donteatthefootcream
Summary: Oswald's new place of business, the new Iceberg Lounge has been able to please all of clientele. The distracting fun has been able to forget the horrors happening within Gotham for a night even. Oswald has his suspicions, Ivy likes the culprit's style, and Edward Nygma comes to brag about his upcoming performance. If only Oswald knew what was about to hit Gotham City from Ed's risky, despicable plans.





	Get Smart of Die

**Author's Note:**

> This can be read as a stand alone, yet, I would recommend checking out the series. Definitely part two of this series due to the mentioned connections. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

After a month of its opening the Iceberg Lounge is the most popular place in the city. The service is nothing but the best. The drinks are usually made to perfection. The entertainment is highly acclaimed up and coming bands or musicians. And, there’s the enchanting risk of running into the most dangerous and powerful people in Gotham City. It’s clear the place to be. 

 

Oswald stands at the bar counter drinking his third drink of the evening, watching the active crowd dancing and drinking in the open space. People leave ripped off from the connected casino which makes Oswald smile a knowing grin. Their mistake to think they’d win money here (of course, people have to win sometimes or the scam would be obvious). 

 

The establishment tints the guests with royal purple and bright blues to contrast. Ice sculptures brightly shine along the outer part of the room, the art shaped as penguins in respectful poses. There’s a landing above the open floor, a place to eat and people watch. A place Oswald spends the majority of his time, finding pleasure in having a bird’s eye view on whoever comes into his place of business.

 

In the end, Oswald has done a fine job in bringing his five star business back to life. The place is so popular, the bad of the bad can have a few drinks and not worry about the GCPD pulling a raid. Every gender is accepted and treated equally unlike at the Sirens. And, everyone is able to forget about the terror going on in the Underworld. People going missing, and if they return they’re either dead or tortured so badly they can’t  _ remember _ what happened. No one knows what’s going on since there’s no connection between victims and there are no suspects. Once again, the GCPD has failed to do their duty. 

 

However, Oswald has an idea on who’s behind it. Terrorizing the city, hurting people for no known reason(yet), and making a big deal out of how everything is done. He’s been expecting the question marks and riddles to pop up. Surprised they haven’t show up sooner. There’s a high probability that Edward Nygma is waiting for the right time to shine. The case is well known, but not known enough for him to take credit. According to Ed at least. 

 

“So Penguin, do you have any idea on who’s the talk of the town?” A smooth, silky voice asks him to his side. 

 

He takes a sip of his drink to look at the long, wavy red hair and poisonous look in the eyes of the woman standing beside him. Her outfit in various shades of green, her beautiful red locks being a powerful pair with the monochromatic outfit. She doesn’t look at him, scanning the crowd most likely looking for a victim. She  _ knows  _ Oswald won’t take victim to her charms. 

 

“Not for certain, Ivy, but I’m sure everyone is making up theories,” Oswald replies, “I wish I knew. I’m not very pleased with the uproar it is creating. I don’t need the trouble.”

 

There’s a twitch in her lips, a tricky spark in her eyes. “Just a inquiry. I do like their style though, maybe you should too.”

 

“Murdering and torturing people for no apparent reason is  _ not  _ the way to keep order. I’ll stay out of it.” He takes another sip of his drink, attempting to dismiss her. 

 

Ivy tilts her head and shrugs. “Fair. I’ll see you around  _ Penguin _ .” She sways her hips as she walks away, introducing herself to a man a few feet away. 

 

Oswald finishes his drink in the next few minutes, ignoring anyone else who wishes to speak with him. He chooses to check his office to make sure the plans and papers are in order before leaving for the night. He shouldn’t be expected to stay the whole night. His presence is to keep up appearances, not to run it. 

  
  
  


He’s holding his umbrella and ready to leave through the backdoor of the Lounge when his assistant calls after him.  _ Ms. Finch.  _ Did Oswald purposely chose assistants and workers with bird related names? Yes, but not in the beginning. There’s Ms. Bird, Lark, and many others. 

 

Oswald turns with a groan of annoyance, hand gripped white on his cane, and a roll of his eyes to face the woman. The woman is talented at hiding her fear, looking at him more apologetic than scared. Even her name goes well with her appearance, blonde hair with usually black clothing.

 

“Sir, I’m sorry to stop you, but Captain Jim Gordon is here to see you,” She informs him, holding her pad of information, schedules, and necessities close to her chest. Compared to Mr. Penn her working ethic isn’t as proficient, but it’s worth it. She’s much more trustworthy. 

 

“Tell him to see me tomorrow morning. I’m done for the night which means every meeting, scheduled or not, are delayed. Have a good night, Ms. Finch,” He replies quickly. 

 

“Sir, he  _ really  _ wanted to see you. He threatened a raid-”

 

“He can’t raid without cause. There’s nothing to worry about.”  _ Although, Jim would find a reason, knowing him.  _ “Actually! I take that back. Please tell him to meet me in my office, thank you.”

 

“Certainly, sir. Should I bring up a drink?”

 

He considers the favor. He  _ will  _ be dealing with the most stubborn, pompous officer on the police force. Stressful or not, he better go in stable than adding on to the alcohol consumed. “No thank you.”

 

Ms. Finch nods and makes her way back to the public swiftly. He collects himself, not wanting to go in frustrated and impatient. None of his meetings go well with Jim Gordon he’s aware, but he’d rather have a good start. 

 

Jim is pacing his office by the time he enters. Oswald isn’t sure how to make out Jim’s expression, walking to his desk during his inspection of Jim Gordon. So far, it seems that this isn’t going to be a false accusation. It will be a request for knowledge then. Either way, an annoying interruption in tonight’s plans. 

 

“How may I help you, old friend?” Oswald asks, faking cheerfulness. No time with Jim is something to be excited about.

 

“I’m sure you’ve heard about the kidnappings and murders taking place,” Jim supposes. 

 

“Who hasn’t heard, Jim? The whole thing is a mystery.”

 

Jim looks long and hard at him. “I’m taking that as a you don’t know anything.”

 

“As much as you, Jim. And for your information, I do  _ not  _ support these actions. I run a clean and organized operation.  _ Organized _ crime after all! This man, woman,  _ whoever _ is causing disorder. I do not appreciate it after all this work I’ve done to clean up the mess left behind by Sofia Falcone!”

 

He offers Oswald a questioning look. “Would you help me taken them down then? You have made it  _ very  _ clear that you want it stopped.”

 

Oswald cocks his head, thinking over the proposal. He might be right with his presumptions. It could be Ed, and if it’s Ed he won’t be able to turn him in. Well, if they can come to a compromise. Ed and him might be on some special agreement, but it was never said that they couldn’t turn each other in. 

 

“Depends. If I figure out who it is and I can stop them then no. If it’s the other way around by refusing to make my life less difficult you’ll have your person in minutes,” Oswald answers.

 

Jim scoffs. “Should have expected as much. I’ll take the latter half even though you should do the  _ lawful  _ thing and turn them in no matter what.”

 

“Business is business, Jim. I don’t want people on my bad side if it’s avoidable.”

 

“Yes, yes, business.” He dismisses him, walking to the door. “Keep me informed, Oswald!”

 

“ _ Ignoramus.”  _

 

And finally, Oswald is able to truly leave his grand place of business. He walks out with his cane and no one, including Ms. Finch comes to make him stay. Jim Gordon on top of his disinterest in the evening was a reason to force him out. He can bet that this won’t be the last time he sees the idiot by the name of Jim Gordon. These murders and traumatizing kidnappings are just the beginning.  _ He knows it.  _

  
  


The next week moves on with the usual activity within his establishment. Barbara visits once, a look of pure distaste on her face as she talked to him. Like Jim and Ivy, she’s come looking for answers from Oswald about this new person threatening the city. They aren’t the only ones seeking answers, many of his follower gangs asking as well. Oswald’s not surprised for their concern however, some of their own members going missing. 

 

“Mr. Cobblepot?” A soft voice of the bartender asks behind him. 

 

“Yes?” He replies, spinning to face his employee. 

 

A glass of green alcohol is glided across the counter towards him.  _ A grasshopper.  _ A drink Oswald will normally be appalled at, mostly for its color, yet he knows a message is being sent for him. A message he’s been waiting for. 

 

“It was ordered by the man on the upper deck. He’s sitting at your table,” The bartender tells him.

 

Oswald hums, and snatches up the drink. “Thank you.”

 

He grips his cane and makes his way through the sea of people. He should’ve known Ed wouldn’t have come up to him personally. The man had to make everything showy, including this. To send someone a drink was flirtatious. And, painfully, no one else in this whole city would have the audacity or  _ interest  _ to order the  _ Penguin  _ a drink.

 

The upper, overseeing floor for the most part is empty. Only a few others are able to obtain seats up here due to social class, money, and getting here on time to have one. While a few men in suits have a meal and meeting across the way, he sees the man he’s looking for. He sits in his table nearest to the balcony where he’s able to see every person in this building apart from the casino. The dim lights from the ceiling do little to hide the bright green covering his body. It’s obnoxious truthfully. 

 

Oswald reaches the table as quickly as possible, and puts the glass down in front of Edward Nygma violently enough to shake the table. Ed jumps slightly, but he doesn’t make his surprise obvious as he turns his body to face Oswald. His smile is lighthearted and his eyes gleam with mischief. 

 

“Hello,  _ Edward _ ,” Oswald greets fiercely, punctuating his name.

 

“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Oswald,” Ed replies, gesturing for Oswald to take a seat across from him. 

 

Oswald glares as he sits down. He didn’t need to be  _ invited _ to sit, this is  _ his  _ table. “Ed, this better be good. We haven’t spoken in a  _ month _ !”

 

“Yes, exactly! Which is why I’m here!” He throws out his arms, doing that stupid finger gesture with his hands and sliding up in his seat to lean against the table. “As your friend, I would like to share my most recent activities.”

 

Oswald sighs, taking a sip of his drink although he hates it. Anything to get himself through this. “If you’re the one kidnapping, murdering, and torturing people then we’re the only two people in this city who have a clue.”

 

The man in green smirks. “You know me too well, Ozzie.”

 

He ignores the flutter in his chest at the nickname. It’s  _ never  _ going to happen. “Well, there’s an issue here. I don’t like the chaos you’re creating. I keep a clean, honest, and orderly business here and your villainy is tearing it apart. My gangs are becoming hostile, the city is in terror, and Jim Gordon will be here every week until it’s over.  _ Not happy _ .”

 

“That was the point-!”

 

“Edward Nygma, I swear-”

 

“I wanted to be feared, Oswald. I wanted this city to see that I am not one to be messed with or used! I apologize if this is throwing business off, but, it’s working!”

 

Oswald leans back in his chair. Business is what he does best, especially deals. He can try to reason with Ed and follow through with what he had informed Jim the night prior. And, thankfully, it’s Ed who will try to be accountable. 

 

“Ed, believe me, I am glad you’re hitting your most powerful stride, yet I made a deal with Jim. If you stop, I won’t tell. If you refuse to stop, I’ll tell him. So, I want to create a compromise-”

 

“No. I’m about to reveal myself soon. The only reason I came here to inform you is because if anyone should have known first it was going to be you.”

 

He nods his head, thinking of another way to make a deal. “Although my snitching would no longer be harmful due to your last statement, I do have to ask something of you.”

 

Ed takes a sip of his drink. “Ask away.”

 

“Stop attacking my gangs and I’ll grow to tolerate this behavior.”

 

“Which means not turning me in when I speak with or visit you?”

 

“Yes, Ed.”

 

Ed smiles and gives a brief nod. “I want drinks on the house every time I spend time here and then I’ll agree.”

 

“No matter how many times you fall and have to get back up again you always manage to drive me up the wall.”

 

“I would  _ love  _ to drive you up a wall.” He wiggles his eyebrows, laughing as he takes another taste of his drink. 

 

That comment sparks a uncomfortable, yet encouraging feeling in his stomach. That will have to be ignored as well. “Deal.”

 

“Was it the  coquettish comment which made you agree or was it because you want to keep it nice between us?”

 

_ Both.  _ “I’m a businessman, Ed. It’s in my best interest to take the deal than deny it half of the time.”

 

“Business business business! Lighten up a bit, Oswald. I think you need a vacation. When this whole plan hits the fan, I’ll take you with me to hang low for a bit. Okay? Good.”

 

“Ed, you can’t just-”

 

Ed stands up and places a fifty dollar bill on the table. He finishes his drink with a long swing and puts his face dangerously close to Oswald’s, his breath fanning his face. 

 

“You are the most beautiful person tonight,” Ed whispers, his eyes showing sincerity and his smile kind. 

 

Words he’s banned himself to think about since their conversation push at his lips for release, yet he won’t allow them. He doesn’t know what Ed is doing or what he plans to do with him. He  _ knows  _ Ed. He’s had enough experience with him to know that he can’t trust Ed with anything too crucial. He’ll make deals he wouldn’t make with anyone else and he’ll treat him above all others, but he refuses to let him get too close. 

 

“Goodnight, Ed. I hope to not wait another month for your presence,” Oswald softly responds. 

 

There’s a fall in Ed’s eyes almost like disappointment. “I assure you, I won’t be able to keep far for too long.”

 

And with that, the beanpole dressed head to toe in shiny green makes their way down the stairs to the exit. He watches as he places his hat on at the doorway, ready to make his way home to wherever. Oswald hits himself in the forehead for letting his emotions almost control him. He won’t let them control him anymore. He won’t. 

  
  


A week passes and there’s been no word from Ed. Not as if Oswald was expecting one. Ed  _ wants  _ to do this alone and make this  _ his.  _ He isn’t going to allow Oswal any involvement or advance information about the new scheme. A horrible scheme that Oswald despises but has no control over, another possible reason for Ed’s silence. 

 

The news is playing in the Lounge as the staff cleans and brings everything out to start the night. The performers are setting up, the kitchens are turning on the ovens and stoves, and the casino is preparing the games. Oswald watches it all, enjoying the power and success it gives him to see what he’s managed to do after losing it all only a couple of months earlier. 

 

The peaceful slight clamor is ruined when the news turns to a blaring static for a moment. The channel losing signal as the static thunders, the newscasters lose all voice, and the newsroom going from black and white to normal. It happens fast and Oswald barely has any time to process the situation before the screen focuses on a scene he can only dread. He wishes it was some nobody villain hoping to do evil who will be caught in a matter of weeks, but it’s Ed. The person who will be able to outwit the GCPD, clean all evidence or remove all trails leading back to him, and has Oswald unknowingly under his thumb. This can go on for months, this terror he’s creating for his own selfish needs for attention.

 

“Boss…?” A server begins.

 

“Quiet!” Oswald snaps, holding up his hand for silence. 

 

The screen is bright due to the background being all bright greens and purples. Ed sits at a desk, his bowler hat placed on his head and blinding green suit bringing himself even more attention with his heeled boots placed delicately on the piece of furniture in front of him. There’s a few new accessories this time, a dark purple mask and gloves. Oswald doesn’t see the need for the mask due to  _ everyone  _ in this city knowing who would do such a dramatic entrance while wearing  _ that _ vibrant green.

 

“Hello my fellow Gothamites! Isn’t it such a great evening with that wonderful news of the GCPD getting new leads on those masked murders done by  _ children,  _ and with the triumphant charities taking over Gotham during this time of need?” He cheers, clapping his hands with expressive enthusiasm. 

 

Oswald watches with suppressed horror as Ed practically leaps out of his chair to walk across the room, the camera following his every move. He walks with a bounce, obviously excited for the news he’s about to bring. The remainder of the room is revealed to show a man tied to a chair, unharmed, and a piece of duct  tape covering his mouth. Ed smiles at the scared man before his demeanor changes with a  _ wicked  _ smirk directed at the camera. 

 

“Now, the real news is: Who’s the one behind all of those  _ terrible  _ murders, kidnappings, and memory altering torture sessions?  Eh bien, c'est moi!” He holds his gloved hands to his chest, laughing at his own… accomplishments? “I won’t go into much detail, but let’s say this has been just the beginning for me. I’ve learned much over the past year which has landed me here to prove that I’m  _ better  _ than what my reputation and past says. I’m not a man to be  _ trifled _ with! Now, the citizens of Gotham lives depend on me and what I  _ want.  _ Get smart or die.”

 

He shifts over to the other side of the man, grabbing the man’s chin and turning it towards the camera.  “The options are risky, yet simple. Either you can tell me a riddle in which I have to answer, and if I’m stumped…  _ you live!  _ Or, you can go through rounds  _ after rounds after rounds  _ of torture until you get one right.” 

 

Ed rips duct tape off the man, receiving a faint scream of pain. The sound of agony is quickly cut off when Ed places his gun on the man’s head, looking down at the tied man with a look of disdain on his face. The man is a pig brought to the slaughter. 

 

“Sir, what option do you chose? Ask the riddle, or answer the riddle? Make it  _ quick  _ or I’ll chose for you,” Ed spits out. 

 

The man thinks for a hard moment, most likely trying to think of the better outcome. If he were smart he’d pick option one, less pain. 

 

“Op-option one,” The man stutters. 

 

“Ooo!” Ed replies, removing the gun away with a fake smile of interest. “I’ll give you a minute to think one up.”

 

Oswald can feel the tension in the room and it’s sickening to feel the gut wrenching fear in his employee’s stomachs. Even he knows that this is  _ not  _ going to end well. A minute to stump the infamous Riddler? Not a chance. But, that’s the point, isn’t it? Option one  _ is _ death, there is no chance to survive. The only chance of survival is going through torture repeatedly. This is why hardly anyone has returned, and if they have they’re completely out of it. Part of him wishes he finds it disgusting, yet isn’t it smart? Despicable? Cunning? And out right inhuman with a bit of charm? It’s so… _ Ed _ . 

 

“Your minute is up. Give it your best shot!” Ed exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting. 

 

Oswald sees Ed’s finger on the gun’s trigger. This truly is a loathsome setup. 

 

“What points in every direction but can never point at itself?” The man asks. 

 

Ed’s eyes show an immediate answer the way his eyes light up, but he doesn’t scream it out and shoot the bullet into the man’s skull. Instead, he repeats the riddle a few times to give the man false hope. He’s a man playing with his food. 

 

“A finger. Nice try though. I’m sure a six year old would have been tricked,” Ed says, shaking his head with disappointment. 

 

Before the man has anytime to react, Ed unfolds his arms, raises the gun, and shoots the man in the head. The chair, with the limp body, fall to the floor from the impact and the lifeless thud is what really ties the fear together. 

 

Ed looks back at the camera and then shrugs with a playful grin on his face. “Better luck next time, Gotham City.”

 

The tv goes black. Oswald hopes Ed will return soon, but not soon enough to be caught by the GCPD. He takes a breath of air and curses at himself for allowing Ed to plan something without telling him. If Ed hasn’t planned this out  _ perfectly  _ he’ll be caught. And, committing a murder on  _ live  _ television for every man, woman, and child to see is not going to get him any favors from the public. Most definitely the law enforcers. 

 

“Okay, everyone back to work,” Oswald orders, breaking the silence. “He’ll be caught soon. They can track the signal. Rather easy really.”

 

It’s an utter lie. Ed’s too smart to let it be easy. He’ll switch between towers to change signals or something more brilliant than that. 

 

“And someone get Ms. Finch for me. She has to make a call,” Oswald informs the staff, hoping for someone to run and get her. That’s what they’re paid for after all. 

 

Fortunately, the above average wage persuades someone to obtain her in less than thirty seconds. She’s on his side, pad and paper ready by the time he’s made up his mind on what to say. 

 

“Call Captain Jim Gordon and notify him that I will  _ not  _ be seeing him tonight. Like everyone else in this city, he will have to make an appointment, however I will allow him a meeting tomorrow,” Oswald tells her. 

 

“Of course, Sir. I’ll do it right now!” She responds, scuttering away to make the phone call. 

 

And, he should be making his own. He has to reprimand someone for killing an innocent person on tv. 

**Author's Note:**

> The Zero Year plot line is my own idea and most likely wrong. I personally don't see Ed taking over the city, it being unrealistic in the show, but I can see this happening. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! The series title is kind of lazy, but also a good hook so it might or might not be changed. :)


End file.
